Frozen In Time
by PrincessShayD25
Summary: Prince Niall is on the run. The only way to take back his kingdom from his evil brother is to disquise as a servant for Elsa the Snow Queen, who he seems to be falling for. The only thing that would make things worse would be if Elsa had to marry to keep her title or if Anna and Kristoff couldn't be together due to the law... Its about to get worse... Much worse. Strong language.
1. Begin at the Beginning

**SUMMARY: Accused of killing his father for the throne, Prince Niall of Tara was chased from his kingdom by his malicious brother Prince Sullivan, and was ultimately left for dead in English waters. However, when a trading ship passes by and rescues the water logged Prince, he comes to the conclusion that the only way to save himself and his kingdom is to go into hiding. Now he must live his life as a servant in the far off kingdom of Arendelle, where he meets the beautiful Queen Elsa. A bond is formed, and worse, love begins to blossom. It's bad enough he can't tell the Snow Queen his true identity, but now he must standby and watch as scores of suitors fight for her attention and her throne? "The course of love never did run smooth."**

**DISCLAIMER: I own practically nothing and appoint all rights to their rightful owners.**

* * *

_**Frozen In Time**_

_Chapter 1: Begin at the Beginning_

* * *

In the dead of night, through the course of a howling thunderstorm, someone is running for their life while someone is running to end it.

The night air howls as rain pours down on the Earth with all intent to drown the land and its occupants. Thunder roars as lightning crashes, and a horse whinnies in the distance. Then shouting, the sounds of anger and anguish mixed together. Finally a horse breaks through the tree line and races away, his rider eagerly pushing him to go faster. The rider glances back, the sky illuminated for a brief second by the lightning, and sees no one. But he can still hear them; calling to him, begging for his blood on their swords.

"Come on Kylar, faster!" the rider whisper shouts over the roll of thunder, gripping the reins in his already tensed hands. They've run for what seems like a life time. Could it really be that just last week it was he who had the good life?

* * *

_One Week Ago_

"Come on Sullivan! You ride like a woman!" The rider with his horse Kylar race through a grassy field, quickly followed by another man on horseback, looking more annoyed then humored. The rider glances back at the man named Sullivan and throws his head back in good-hearted laughter. He pulls up on the reins and slows to wait for the man tagging along behind him. Sullivan slows as he approaches the man he had been following and grumbles quietly to himself. The rider takes note of the older man's behavior and smiles. "Oh cheer up, I was only joking-"

"I'm not upset," Sullivan grunts, glancing down at his horse and adjusting something on the saddle. He brushes aside a stray piece of red hair and huffs. "If I had a different horse, I could keep up with you Niall. My horses are never as fast as yours," he says angrily, pouting to himself.

"Well, now, don't go blaming the horse because you skipped out on your lessons when we were younger, brother." Sullivan glares, his piercing green eyes almost menacing, but the look only makes Niall laugh harder. "Isn't that your ninth horse, anyways?"

"I'll see you back at the castle." With a crack of his reins, Sullivan races off through the field, heading for the castle in the distance. Niall sighs. He should chase after his older brother, he knows he should, but as he glances around the field that over looks the kingdom of Tara he can't help but remain.

As far as he can see, the land is covered in luscious greens and prosperity. Villages in the distance bustle with lively-hood, the smoke from burning fires and furnaces wafting into the air and drifting on the breeze. He can see the mansion of Lord Cormac to his right, followed by that, Lord O'Reilly's estate, nothing but a small dot in his vision. To the left is Naran Village followed by the River Boyne and in the very far distance, he can see the mountains that represent the boarders between his kingdom and the Kingdom of Ulster. His kingdom is by far, in his eyes, the most beautiful in all of Ireland and the British Isles. Well not his kingdom, his father's kingdom.

Niall smiles contently to himself as he steers his palace horse in the direction of the castle. He arrives there shortly after, the royal guards greeting him as he makes his way through the gate. He says his hello's to other guards and servants who are bustling around in preparation for the feast to be held that night. He dismounts near the stables and hands the reins over to a stable boy before heading inside.

His castle is fairly large in comparison to others he has seen, but having lived here his entire life makes it seem a bit small. Niall greets various people, some he knows well and others just to be polite, and searches for his brother but to no avail. He sighs and runs a hand through his long blond hair. He hates it when his brother becomes cross with him, which happens often more than not.

Sullivan has always been an odd child. Ever since they were children he's just been… different. For starters, they look nothing akin. Where Niall has long, blond, wavy hair, Sullivan has curly red hair. Niall is tall, well built, toned and muscular; Sullivan is no more than the average woman's height, with lanky limbs and very pale skin that's covered in freckles. They do share one trait though, their eye color. Both of them have piercing, dark green eyes, clearly an unmistakable sign of common heritage.

But besides looking different, they act different as well. Niall is head-strong, daring, and adventurous; Sullivan is rather blunt and almost rudely sarcastic about things. Sullivan would rather spend his days doing nothing in his room while Niall spends his outside in the castle courtyard, practicing his weaponry skills or visiting the local villages.

As children, they had been much closer. Best friends practically, but then, Sullivan started to reserve himself more and more, until the point that he went entire weeks without seeing his brother. Niall was deeply affected, but his father helped him through most of it. His father took him on trips around the kingdom and various surrounding lands as well, letting his son see all there was to offer.

He would admit that his relationship with his father was stronger than Sullivan's relationship with their father, but he didn't imagine that his father ever played favorites. The King was actually quite strict in training; commanding Niall to try harder and pointing out every miniscule error. Perhaps it made him a good man; perhaps it made him a great one.

Niall sighs once again, his search for his brother ending. Sullivan probably just needed to cool down and then he'd apologize. He starts his way towards his room, but just as he passes the library he spots one of the castle adversaries, Sithchenn, flipping through the pages of a book. Niall grins and quietly rushes inside, undetected by the studious man. Without warning, he launches himself at Sithchenn and wraps him in a headlock, the now startled older man shouting in fright.

"Oi!" Niall laughs good naturedly and releases his friend, letting the aged man adjust his robes before turning to face the prince. His face is less than impressed, which only makes Niall laugh even more. "Not very impressive, master Niall."

Niall claps Sithchenn on the shoulder and curbs his laughter. "You had no idea, admit it. You were about to cry had I not released you," Niall teases. Sithchenn rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless.

He had tutored Niall since the boy could walk, and he would like to humor himself with the fact that, almost regrettably, the stubborn, head-strong prince was his friend. And growing up, he had been like a son to him. When Niall was younger, he liked to believe that Sithchenn was his second father. Whatever the King couldn't teach, such as reading and writing, Sithchenn did. They were like family.

"Well," Niall begins, noting the papers on the table Sithchenn must have been working from, "writing papers for my father or doing research?"

"Research," the older man answers nimbly, collecting a few of the papers into piles. "Your father has decided to compose his own speech for tonight's feast." Niall looks at the white-haired man in confusion. They had a scribe for a reason, Sithchenn had been doing that for years, so having his father write his own speech was very odd indeed. Sithchenn shrugs, just as confused as the Prince, and Niall pushes all thoughts aside, resuming his inspection of Sitchenn's research. He frowns.

"Poison?" he asks, his blond eyebrow furrowing.

"Medicine," Sithchenn answers in correction. "I'm studying different plants of the region and will hopefully come up with a cure for the pox that has appeared up in Scotland." Niall nods as he studies a diagram of a plant that looks similar to that of a mistletoe bush, the plant itself sitting in a pot right next to it. He knew mistletoe itself was deadly if ingested, but whatever Sithchenn was doing was for the good of others. "Shouldn't you be preparing for the feast?" Niall looks up at the elder and nods, standing away from the table and walking towards the door.

"Good luck with your research," he offers over his shoulder as he makes his way towards his bedroom. The older man sighs, finally able to have a little more peace with the young man gone. He looks over his diagram of the pox he mentioned in Scotland, and sighs, this time in anguish, not noticing a pair of piercing vengeful eyes watching from the depths of darkness. Good luck indeed.

* * *

"May I have your attention please?" Its later that evening and everyone in almost all of Ireland is in accompaniment. They all turn toward the King of Tara, Eochaid Mugmedón, and patiently wait for his words, some listening while others wait for him to say they can begin eating. The King smiles. "I don't wish to speak long, but I do wish to thank all of you for appearing tonight, for it is a special night." He pauses as the crowd absorbs his words and begin to wonder what the occasion is actually for. "Well, let's not let good food go to waste. Eat!" The crowd immediately erupts in conversation, some laugh while others dive into the mountains of food being served.

Only after people have been fed and goblets have been emptied does the crowd become denser as more people gather around one another to mingle. Niall watches his father mingle with the King of Munster, Crimthann mac Fidaig, and the two share a hearty laugh over a joke that had just been shared. He scans the crowd briefly, trying to spot that familiar lock of red-hair, but is startled when he is suddenly jumped on.

"Oi!" he shouts as someone throws their arms around his shoulders and tries to wrestle with the blond. Four bouts of laughter greet his ears as his friends, Princes Brión, Ailill, Fiachrae, and Fergus of Munster mettle with their friend. Niall smiles and shoves Ailill off his shoulders, turning to greet them. "Glad you came," he says sarcastically, the group snorting in laughter.

"And what made you think we wouldn't?" Brión, eldest of the brothers at the age of twenty-seven, asks. His brothers nod in agreement. Niall rolls his eyes.

"I figured with your father here, you'd throw your own feast-"

"Why have a feast in Munster," Fergus, youngest of the princes at the age of twenty-one, interjects, "when all the pretty maidens are here?!" They throw their heads back in loud snorts before they make their way out of the Great Hall and into the courtyard outside. There, each brother removes a bottle of strong smelling liquor, Brión removing two as he hands one to Niall, and they uncap the bottles.

"Bottoms up!"

Five minutes later they come storming back into the party, quite haphazardly and staggering a bit, but the crowd doesn't even notice; they themselves almost lost in the sea of alcohol. They are laughing for no apparent reason, possibly just to be giddy, when Fiachrae shushes the group and points into the crowd. They follow his finger to the best of their drunken ability and spot the maiden the prince is pointing to.

"Thars your girlly, Niallll!" Fiachrae slurs. Alexi Chasdub of Dublin is the woman on the receiving end of Fiachrae's finger, and the receiving end of the attention that a group of drunken men are giving her. She is small and pretty, her dark, long brown hair pinned back around her face, giving way to lovely pale skin. The princes whoop in agreement with their brother, but Niall grimaces and shoves Fiachrae aside. He'd rather not deal with 'that woman' at his party tonight, but there goes Fergus, stumbling across the Hall and up towards the less than impressed woman. She glances his way before he gestures in the direction of his brothers and she looks revolted before she spots Niall.

Niall sighs and the boys around him holler as Alexi excuses herself from the crowd of gentlemen before making her way towards him, Fergus stumbling not too far behind. "Hello Prince Niall," she greets, holding out her hand for him to take, like it was second his privilege to just hold it. The blond prince takes it distastefully and kisses it lightly, dropping it the moment he pulls away.

"Lady Alexi. What brings you here?" he deadpans.

"Is that anyway to address a lady?" Alexi asks through small giggles, an action meant to be endearing but for her it just sounds overused. Niall doesn't doubt it.

Lady Alexi has a habit of drifting from suitor to suitor, adoring the attention they give but abandoning them the second a more promising one comes along. Such actions had been used on his older brother Sullivan nearly ten years ago when they were simple teenagers and poor Sullivan had fallen harder than anyone.

Even when she was ten, the woman knew how to manipulate a man. She looked like the perfect young lady on the outside; charming, polite, of noble birth, skillful in ladylike etiquette, everything that was promising and tempting for every man. Sure she's pretty, even Niall knows this; however, he can't help but find her as dull as the dead. She has nothing to offer besides boredom, headaches, and endless misery. Too bad for her that Niall knows the serpent that lurks behind those brown eyes. A monster with a pretty face.

He stares at her briefly before shaking his head and chuckling softly. "My apologies, Milady," he offers, sincerity lacking in his voice. Luckily his friends had found a group of his maids to busy themselves with and weren't around to hear his faux manners. "I just figured actual 'ladies' didn't torment men for their own pleasure." He smirks while she offers a polite smile, her eyes flashing with anger. He shoulders past her. "If you'll excuse me."

Niall huffs, running a hand through his hair as the effects of the liquor begin to wear off. Just as he glances up he notices his brother Sullivan standing off in the corner, glaring daggers in his direction. "Ugh, Sullivan," Niall whispers to himself, trying to make his way from the middle of the Hall to his brother.

"Lords, Ladies, and everyone in attendance!" The crowd grows quiet as the King stands before his audience and Niall stops before he can reach his brother. Eochaid clears his throat before he begins his speech. "As I had mentioned before, tonight is a special night for the Kingdom of Tara." He pauses as his face breaks into a grin, his eyes glinting in the light of the room. Happiness surges forward as he takes a deep breath to continue, "For tonight, I shall name my successor."

The crowd begins to chatter at the news, Niall himself is surprised by the information but his lips curl in a grin. No wonder his father had prepared this himself; if he had entrusted Sithchenn with it, Niall would have discovered it one way or another. His older brother is next in line for the crown by birth right should anything happen to their father, but the actual naming of a successor meant that it would be official. Unless of course their father named someone else the successor, otherwise Sullivan was guaranteed the throne. Niall glances over toward his older brother, nodding his head when his brother's face that had been angry before now seems to glimmer with insuppressible pride.

The King raises his hand and the noise dies once again. "I must tell you," he says glancing over the room, "that there is no one better suited for this title as my successor, and there is not a soul in all of Ireland that is more proud of him than I." The King smiles. "As a dignitary and as a father, he is my first choice, my last, and everything in between. I present to you, people of Ireland, my successor and my son… Prince Niall of Tara!"

Cheers and hollers of congratulations erupt from the audience, some even pat Niall on the shoulder, but Niall remains dumbstruck. His father watches him with an immense amount of pride, but he can't make heads or tails of the situation. He's not the successor. He's not even the oldest. Niall's twenty-six and Sullivan is twenty-nine. It's supposed to be Sullivan.

Niall glances across the room and is met with a wicked green-eyed glare. Sullivan has puffed to nearly twice his size, fuming with fury. "Sullivan!" Niall shouts over the crowd but the shorter man has stormed from the room. The blond prince eagerly pushes through the ecstatic crowd and races after his brother. "Sullivan!"

The King watches his two sons exit the room, a hint of worry etched on his features, and the crowds applause begins to die down, confusion starting to set in. The King smiles and excuses himself, leaving a little more than confused crowd.

"Sullivan!" Niall shouts again, racing after his raging brother who charges into the back courtyard, trying to lose the person following him. Niall puts in an extra surge of speed as he sprints across the yard, catching his brother's arm and pulling him to a stop.

"Let me go!" Sullivan raises his fist, aiming for his brother's nose, but Niall reacts too quickly for the older prince and catches the punch in his palm. His second attempt ends up the same as his first. Sullivan pulls away in flail of limbs and stands back looking up at Niall, fuming. "You bastard! You get everything don't you? Women, praise, my own father! _Ith cac_!" (meaning 'eat shit' in Gaelic).

"Sullivan!" Both princes turn to see Eochaid strolling up to the duo, looking displeased. "Don't be such a child!"

"How could you!" Sullivan demands, throwing his arms into the air, his anger raising his voice to a squeak. "How could you humiliate me like that!" The King's stare remains level while Sullivan points and accusing finger at his father. "And how could you name _him_," he says pointing to Niall, "as your successor! I'm older! I deserve the crown!"

"Clearly not!" Niall flinches when his father shouts angrily, staring down his eldest son with a look crossed between disappointment and disgust. "Niall is better in every aspect, where as you seem to fail miserably." Niall wants to interject and he opens his mouth to do so, but no words seem to filter out so he closes it shamefully. "He is the obvious choice."

"He's not even your son!" Niall glances between Sullivan and his father. What was he talking about, 'not your son,'? The King's eyes widen and his mouth closes. Sullivan grins wickedly, a wild look in his dark green eyes.

"Oh, yes, that's right. I know all about him and your little secret. No need to hide it! He's just the bastard boy you took in!" His glare turns toward Niall who looks dumbfounded and he grins devilishly. "He's lied to everyone about you! You're not royalty, you're not his son, you're not my brother! You're just some low-life shit we picked up off the street. But here he is! Naming you as his successor!"

Sullivan whirls, his black cape twirling around with him, and faces Eochaid. "I'm your real son!"

The King steps up so that he is now towering over the red-haired man, glaring. "No… you're not." Sullivan puffs up his chest and opens his mouth to make a retort, but after a second of stuttering he turns away with a grunt and storms off into the castle. The King sighs.

"Is it true?" Eochaid turns toward Niall who has his head lowered, his eyes sparkling with tears. He looks up, anger mixing with betrayal written all over his face. The King looks away, studying the grass while the blond man before him waits with baited breath. "Look at me, and answer me." Eochaid sighs and returns his gaze toward the man on the verge of turmoil.

"Yes. It's true. You're not my son."

It's as if the Heavens above suddenly decided to come crashing down on poor Niall's shoulders and he fights to remain standing. His breath quickens and his hands grip his hair as he fights to control the inner storm that has started to rage within him. He wasn't his son. He wasn't a prince of Tara. He wasn't Niall.

"Your mother was a maid of the palace." The King sighs heavily as he runs a hand through his dark, black hair. "Your mother- eh, my wife, was also pregnant at the time your mother was. My wife miscarried the exact same night your real mother died giving birth to you." There was a pause as Niall makes a soft moan, pressing his hands into his eyes as he desperately tries not to cry. "She was… she was the only one in the palace that could take care of you," the King offers, his voice wavering with emotion. "We made the switch, saying that your mother had died and so had her baby, while you grew up believing you were actually my son."

Niall fights for air as his throat constricts. It feels like his chest is giving out and collapsing in on itself. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asks breathlessly, not meeting Eochaid's eyes.

"The only one who ever knew was Sithchenn. We figured-"

"Sithchenn!" Niall squawks, surprise hitting him full force as tears spring from his eyes. When he thought he couldn't take another hit, here comes his father with a sucker punch to his gut. The ultimate betrayal. Everyone he had ever trusted in his life has known that it has all been one large lie.

"We figured it would be best if you didn't know."

"Sithchenn knew?!"

Eochaid sighs once more, tears now threatening his vision. "When my wife died, I just…" he pauses as his body is wrecked by a sob. "I just didn't want to lose you as well. I took care of you like my real son, please you have to believe that. I loved you as if you were my own." Niall almost feels guilty for making his father cry, but then he realizes that the man before him is not actually his father.

"I hate you." It's almost too quiet for the King to hear, but it's firm enough.

"What?…Niall!" The blond man runs in the opposite direction of the King, tears streaming down his face and into the wind. He passes by party guests, his friends from Munster who call out to him and ask him what is wrong, but he ignores them all. He isn't who he is supposed to be. He isn't who he believes he is. He's no one.

He races down a dark corridor only to be grabbed by a man in robes. "Niall? Niall what is it?" He recognizes the man holding him and rage suddenly pours over into his actions. He slams Sithchenn against the nearest wall which actually happens to be a window and the glass cracks against the force.

"You knew?!" He screams, his spit flying as his nose begins to run and more tears fall. Sithchenn sighs heavily, knowing exactly what the young man is asking. The sigh is both, not enough of an explanation and the only answer Niall is actually willing to hear at the moment. He throws Sithchenn aside and storms off in the other direction. What was he going to do now?

* * *

It's either in the very late hours of the night or very early hours of dawn, Niall is unsure, but he knows that someone is waking him up quite harshly.

"Niall! Wake up! Niall!" The blond prince opens his eyes quickly and recognizes the person shaking him awake as Sithchenn. The events of the night flood his memory and for a moment he just wants to push the man away, go back to sleep, but Niall notices the man's light brown eyes. He knows that look.

When Niall was younger, his father used to take him on hunting trips into the wilderness of Tara's forests. Niall had become well trained in a bow and arrow by the age of six and he remembers his very first trip they took. They had been hunting all day, well more like stalking all day, for the buck they were following had been alluding them at every meadow and every stream. While his father was taking a break with a few other palace hunters, Niall snuck out on his own in hopes he could impress his father with his hunting skills. He remembers getting lost and by complete luck he stumbled upon the deer they had been tracking. In an instant he had his bow raised and in the next he let the arrow fly, straight for the heart of the deer. In the split second of time the deer had been living to when he was on the ground dead, Niall had seen 'the look', the same look that was now in Sithchenn's eyes… complete and utter terror.

"What is it Sithchenn?" Niall asks fearfully, but the older man shushes him. Without answering, Sithchenn pulls Niall from his bed and hands him a pair of trousers and a servants shirt.

"Dress quickly. There isn't much time," he tells the younger man, glancing at the door anxiously. Niall does as he's told, all the while very confused. He tries to ask questions, but Sithchenn hushes him each time, hurrying him to dress.

"Sithchenn, what it going on? Are we under attack?" Before the white-haired man can answer, there is a shout from the hall outside his bedroom and Sithchenn gasps.

"We need to leave." He races across the room, Niall following him out of fear, to the in-wall mirror. Sithchenn pushes on the bottom corner of the mirror and much to Niall's surprise, the mirror rotates and spins to reveal a secret staircase. "Follow me. Quickly!" They both step through the mirror and it spins close, just as the doors to Niall's quarters burst open and he is able to see what is going on for a fraction of a second. Men, his palace guards, armed with crossbows. The first one into the dark room doesn't hesitate to fire at his empty bed, just as the mirror shuts tight.

Niall stands there in the darkness of the passage, at a lost. They must have realized who he really was, or perhaps the King ordered for his private execution. It doesn't matter. People just burst into his room and if it hadn't been for Sithchenn, he would be lying in his bed… dead. A hand touches his shoulder and he jumps, turning in the darkness, but knowing the hand and the gentle touch. Tears spring to his eyes as his voice twists. "Oh, Sithchenn-" he whispers.

"Not here." The two begin their decent down the staircase until they reach the bottom that leads to another passage. Sithchenn clearly knows this route so Niall puts all faith into this man as he follows blindly after him in the dark. They follow a passage that weaves and bobs, Niall hitting his head quite a few times on the ceiling, until the sound of rushing water echoes in the tunnel. "There's a hole here that'll lead to the sewers and we'll use them to make our escape. Be careful jumping down."

They both jump through a hole in the ground into the knee deep sewage water, the sewers illuminated by the gates in the streets above them. Niall slips when he lands and grimaces when the foul water floods his nose and covers his body. Sithchenn helps him stand and they race with the water heading for an exit.

Meanwhile, Niall notices, the life outside his castle has come alive. He can hear shouting in the streets, but he can't hear what they're saying, the sound of the water and the alarm bells drowning them out.

They travel for some time more, before they meet up with where all the sewage of the town converges and empties out. They both jump into the awful smelling water and let the current pull them from the sewer tunnels into the open air. They resurface again in the marshes, a ways away from the castle.

Niall helps Sithchenn stand and the two wade out of the muck and grime, collapsing on the softened shores. Niall stares at the man beside him, completely exhausted. "Sithchenn?" The older man turns, tears removing the mud from his wrinkled face. "What is going on?" He seems to have aged three fortnights in just a single hour and the man begins to sob quietly.

"The King is dead."

Throughout his entire life, his father had been there to remind young Niall that they were people of high power. And with such great power, there would be people willing to kill for it. Each time his father told him that there were people who wanted to hurt them, he brushed it aside. It was too surreal.

Now, it was all too real. Niall wanted to cry. Scream, shout, throw something, hit someone, but he remained quiet, shaking his head as if what Sithchenn had just told him was a flat-out lie. This entire night was taking its toll.

"And everyone thinks you did it." Niall looks at his tutor in shock.

"They what?!" Him? How!

"Sullivan is telling everyone that he saw you kill your father to gain access to the crown." Sithchenn slowly struggles to stand while Niall tries to remember fine motor skills like breathing. "He says the reason he wasn't named successor was because you threatened to kill the King if he didn't name you."

"But I didn't!" Niall cries, jumping up in anger and shock. "I would never! Until tonight I didn't even know I wasn't royalty!"

"They found your sword in your father's stomach, that, and poison on his lips. My guess is that Sullivan poisoned your father with mistletoe I had in the library, incapacitating him before he…" Sithchenn grows quiet as words no longer need to describe what happened next. Niall looks down at his bare feet, tears washing away the slime on his face. And the last thing he ever told him was that he hated him.

"I am so sorry for your loss. For everything that has happened to you tonight. But," he says and Niall glances up, his heart breaking. "now, we need you to leave." Niall just looks like a beaten man, which he pretty much is, but Sithchenn continues. "Niall, you listen to me and listen good. Remember this. You are the rightful heir to the throne. You were named successor, not because of your blood relation to the king or your age, but because you are a good man. You are a great man. Sullivan will never be able to hold this power for long without some collateral damage being done. Myself, Tara, and all of Ireland is counting on you to challenge Sullivan and take your rightful place as successor to Eochaid. Do you understand?" Niall nods.

Maybe he didn't understand much at the moment, everything was rushing by in a complete blur, but now was not the time to think. He would remember Sithchenn's words, and he'd think about them later. He'd mourn the loss of his father later. Sithchenn was right, he needed to leave.

They both glance toward the castle as shouts can be heard across the marshes, far off in the distance. They're looking for him now.

The duo trudge through the marshes as quickly as the mud would allow them to, and before they knew it they were standing on the fringes of the marina. There, standing by a lone fisherman's boat, stands a boy, one of his palace hands, holding Kylar's reins in one hand and a lantern in the other.

Sithchenn races forward first, Niall hot on his heels, and the boy spots them. He waves them over with his lantern as he begins to guide the horse onto the boat. There's a shout just as the pair reach the dock and then the alarm bells in the town begin to ring once more. Angry shouts come from the town as Sithchenn signals Niall to jump aboard while he unties the boat. The boy offers Niall the reins of Kylar and Niall pulls his horse the rest of the way onto the boat. The boy helps Sithchenn undo the ties of the boat, and Niall makes a move to help them, but Sithchenn commands him to stay in the boat.

A thunder of boots and angry shouts make their way down to the docks as the royal guards round the corner to the marina. Sithchenn and the boy share a look before he takes off, heading straight for the men. The wind picks up as Sithchenn pushes with surprising strength the boat from the dock. "Sithchenn!" Niall calls out, when he realizes the man is not jumping on board with him.

"Go!" He turns around and heads up the dock after the boy who has now caught up to the royal guards. Before any of them can make a grab for the boy, he knocks over the supports for a few water barrels and they begin to trample the royal guards. He's slowing them down, but not by much as a few guards quickly tackle him to the ground. Niall spots Sithchenn and watches as the old man with unbelievable strength hauls a fishing net through the air and capture at least ten of the guards in the snare. Niall cries out when they tackle him to the ground as well.

The royal guards race to the edge of the dock, but they're too late. The boat is out in the water, far greater the distance their arrows could travel. The wind picks up more as it begins to rain and Niall is left to watch as the shores of his home slowly become smaller and smaller, until they are nothing more than a small shadow in the distance.

* * *

_Present_

Now here he is, still running from the royal guards that his own brother, or who he had presumed was his brother, have sent to kill him. It is very plausible that the boy who saved him that night is dead, and even more heart shattering, Sithchenn might be as well. Tears mix with the night rain that plasters his short, black hair to his face as he races through the woods of Liverpool.

He had made the journey to England, and he thought he had lost them back on the coast. He had even gone to the extremes of cutting his hair much shorter than it had been before and dipping his head in a barrel of ink to cover up his blond head. He looked poor and unrecognizable, nothing like what he once was. But here he was, on the complete opposite coast of England and still they were chasing him. Ireland knew of him. England knew. All of the British Isles knew of him now. He was a goner.

But he cracks the reins once more, willing and pleading Kylar to continue. He doesn't want to die, not when he has so many relying on him to survive. Another roll of thunder as lighting crash down to Earth, striking a tree several paces before the racing pair. Kylar pulls up fast, the flash followed by the explosion as the tree catches fire, startling the horse who then throws his rider. Niall tumbles through the brambles and begins a rapid descent down a steep incline. His backside hits a tree and he cries out in pain.

"Down there!" Someone shouts over the thunder. Niall wants nothing more than to just give in, but his legs and arms push him off the ground and he races the rest of the way down the incline. They're practically on top of him and he flinches when an arrow whizzes by right next to his ear. He stumbles as he finds flat ground and breaks out of the tree line, only to falter as he realizes he's on the very edge of a cliff.

The squalls reach nearly halfway up the side of the cliff, a nearly two hundred foot drop into raging waters. Jumping would surely mean his death, but to remain on the edge until the men who are just behind him come and kill him, would mean the end as well. He stares over the edge, wondering what to do, when he hears the familiar hiss of a bow being fired and sudden pain in his arm. He lurches forward and over the edge of the cliff to the terrible waters far below.

"What'd you do that for!" A guard shouts angrily, racing forward to the one who just shot the wanted prince over the edge of the cliff. Another races toward the cliffs edge and looks down. There's nothing but raging waves against solid rock. Even if he had survived the arrow, there was no way he could survive the frigid North Sea waters, especially not in this storm.

"Well he's gone now." He turns and stands at the edge for a moment, letting his men gather around in the howling rain and wind. Lighting flashes and he shouts over the roll of thunder, "The Prince is dead. Let's tell the King."

* * *

It feels like emptiness inside darkness. Like a nothingness just swallowed him whole and there just wasn't anything left anymore. Niall slowly opens his eyes and realizes he's underwater, where everything is suddenly peaceful and calm. His head feels like its going to explode if he doesn't get a breath in soon, but he can't find the surface. It feels like the end. It is the end. His body goes numb, even the shoulder that's leaking blood from where the waves dislodged the arrow feels better. He closes his eyes as his mind goes blank. He can feel something now. Angels perhaps. Strong arms, welcoming hands, pull him up and out of the water as he fades away into the abyss.

* * *

"Is he alive?"

A man leans over the body of the lad that they had just pulled from the water and presses his ear to the young man's chest. The crew of the ship waits with baited breath. At first, there's nothing. Then, a thud. Followed faintly by another. And another.

"Yes… I think so."

* * *

**Soooo, okay. A lot of explaining to do. This is a Frozen fic, don't worry. I just needed to set up some background for you guys at first. The next chapter will have our beloved Frozen characters, don't you fret. Also, I've done a little research on Irish Kings and all these names, maybe not Sullivan, but most of them are all real people. I've taken some basic info from King Niall of the Nine Hostages and I've twisted it around a little bit to make things work in my favor. Its kind of cool, you should check it out. Anyways, I hope you like the story, cause I love Frozen and was bummed out that Elsa never got a hubby at the end. This is for her. Reviews are nice, but I'm writing this to just basically get it out of my system. Thanks For Reading!**


	2. It's A Fair Kingdom

**A/N: Chapter 2! Starts out with our Frozen entourage and will end with our water logged Prince. They won't meet just yet, you'll have to wait for chapter three, sorry. Enjoy!**

**CAUTION: Minor spoilers if you haven't seen the movie yet.**

**DISCLAIMER: All rights go to Disney for Frozen characters, and Wiki for the other characters mentioned by myself.**

* * *

_**Frozen In Time**_

_Chapter 2: It's A Fair Kingdom_

* * *

Summertime in Arendelle is beautiful. The sunshine and ocean breezes meld together in perfect harmony that washes over the fjord and the kingdom itself. Summertime brings people together, outside and having fun in large gatherings to simple conversations in the market. It's less of a hassle as well. Everyone being in such good spirits hardly ever find the time to not be, let alone find the time to make trouble of things. Summertime in Arendelle is peaceful, and quiet, and-

"ELSA! HELP!" Elsa, the Queen of Arendelle, stiffens when she hears her sister's scream echo through the castle corridors. The attendants she had been speaking to all quiet as the Queen races across her bedroom to her door, fear coursing through her body as her powers begin to surge. But before she can reach the handle, the doors fly open and her sister comes rushing in, slamming the doors behind her.

"Anna? What is it? What's wrong?" Elsa asks, grabbing her sister's shoulders and checking her over to make sure she wasn't hurt. She looks fine besides the new found color in her pale cheeks, but she has this look of complete terror in her deep blue eyes and Elsa's heart tightens. Anna leans against her sister, trying to catch her breath while hiccupping.

"H-heE's… gon-NA… g-get… mEEee!" She answers breathlessly through hiccups. Elsa's eyebrows furrow in confusion. Who was going to get her? But before she can even ask, a shout from the hall catches their attention. A very familiar shout.

"ANNA!" The double doors fly open as a blond and very tall mountain man barges into the room, looking upset. His sleeves are pushed up and ruffled, his charcoal vest is unbuttoned, and his hair is in chaos. Yup, it's Kristoff.

Anna squeaks and hides behind her sister as Kristoff spots her retreating figure. "Oh, no, no, no, no! That's not fair! You can't use your sister!" he shouts as he stomps up to the duo. Anna squeaks again and shrinks behind her sister further as Elsa stands firm.

"Kristoff," she begins calmly. "What is this all about?"

Ever since the night many years ago when Elsa accidentally hurt her sister using her magic, she swore to do whatever it took to keep her sister safe, even if that meant shutting herself away and limiting all contact with the princess. And it had worked up until her coronation night when she had lost control and her powers to create ice and snow were revealed to everyone. She couldn't control her powers and she had to keep Anna safe, so she ran away from her kingdom, far into the mountains where she thought she couldn't do anymore damage. But her powers were so uncontrollable that she had accidentally frozen over her kingdom.

Little did she know that her sister had come after her, ready to face her after all the years of seclusion. Anna had found Kristoff, an ice harvester, in the mountains and she had recruited him to help her find Elsa. Eventually they found her, but their confrontation hadn't gone over so well as Elsa accidentally froze Anna's heart. Only an act of true love can unfreeze a frozen heart, and Anna sacrificed herself in order to save her sister from being killed by Prince Hans, with whom Anna thought she was in love with. Luckily her sacrifice was for her sister, whom she loved even if she was a little cold, and Anna unfroze.

It was then that Elsa realized that if it was fear that made her powers uncontrollable, then love was the key to controlling them. With that in mind, she thawed out her kingdom and re-opened the gates to everyone once and for all, no more living in isolation.

Now nearly two months post the summer/winter mix-up, she has been able to reconnect with her sister and form a bond stronger than ever. This past month alone they have become what she presumes to be 'actual sisters'; ones that laugh and talk all day long, who actually got to enjoy one another's company. Elsa had even taught Anna how to skate a week ago!

And through this time, Anna has confided in Elsa about her relationship with Kristoff. As far as the Queen knew, they were better than 'friends' but she was still unsure if they were in an actual relationship. Anna told her that they spent a lot of time together; laughing, and talking, and playing with Sven and Olaf.

Just a few weeks ago Elsa saw the two trying to skate together; Kristoff skating circles around a bumbling Anna who fell down thrice as many time as Kristoff did, and he only fell trying to help her up. But besides the one time where they had kissed that day in the square and might have been in an actual relationship, neither had done anything to bring the topic up again.

Elsa likes Kristoff. He's an honest guy, handsome as well, and Heaven only knows how patient one would have to be in order to put up with her younger sibling. But she loves the fact that he makes Anna happy. She has never seen Anna laugh so hard at anyone's jokes or smile so much for not particular reason.

But whenever Elsa makes a point to call Anna out on it, the fierce princess quickly changes the subject. Elsa knows her sister likes Kristoff, probably even loves him, but she's admitting nothing. And neither is Kristoff. Hopefully, this is just a minor problem for the duo to resolve quickly.

"I said I was sorry!" Anna mewls from behind her sister, wrapping her arms around herself and gently pulling on the white sleeves of the shirt beneath her dress. Kristoff tries to reach around Elsa to make a grab at Anna, but Elsa blocks him.

"Ha! Tell that to Sven!" He shouts and makes another grab for the red-head, failing once more. He huffs and stands back, arms crossing over his toned chest as he stares above the Queen's head grumbling.

"He knows it's for the better!" Anna shouts over her sister's shoulder, grabbing the elder woman and angling her in Kristoff's direction. "He's fine-"

"No he's not, he's traumatized!"

"Enough!" Elsa shrugs her sister off her shoulders and stands apart from the two. "What is going on?"

Anna straightens and faces her sister calmly, chin in the air. "All I did was give Sven a bath," Anna answers simply, much to Kristoff's horror.

"You demasculized him!" Kristoff shrieks, as if he was losing his masculinity at that very moment.

"That's not even a real word, Kristoff!" Anna counters, crossing her arms and sticking her nose high into the air. "He smelled awful, anyways."

Kristoff huffs. "A man's stench is all he has!"

Anna scoffs and stares the man twice her size down. "He's not a man!"

Kristoff throws his arms in the air dramatically. "Fine! _Reindeer_! There is no difference. You bathed him and worse, you made him smell like lilacs!" Kristoff drops his arms and stares dumbly at Anna. How did she not understand the simplicity of the situation? Reindeer were supposed to smell like reindeer, not flowers!

"You should be thanking me," Anna replies over her shoulder as she turns away from Kristoff. How did he not understand the simplicity of the situation? Reindeers were not supposed to smell like rotting carrots!

"Thank you?!" Kristoff shouts, incredulous.

"You're welcome."

"Gah!"

Elsa sighs heavily and closes her eyes, fighting the on coming headache. "And here I am, thinking that the two of you had an actual problem." She at least expected the situation to be much more pressing than this. Both Anna and Kristoff gasp, which only makes the situation even more ridiculous.

She shakes her head as she walks back over to her servants that had been working on the half finished dress she's wearing before they were interrupted. It's a ball gown, something she wants to wear at the castle's ball to be held that night. Of course, the seamstresses were only their to make the outline of the dress while Elsa would add her own flair later using her magic. Probably a crystallized over-coat, with ice-trimmings. Or snowflake imprints with a long frost train!

"Elsa!" two voices yelp in unison.

She turns around on the pedestal as the seamstresses begin working some more on her gown and she raises an eyebrow; poised, perfect, and sophisticated. "Well I don't know what you want me to do."

"She washed Sven! How is that acceptable?"

"How is it not acceptable!" Elsa rolls her eyes once more and resists the urge to groan. This is not an ordeal that the Queen of Arendelle needs to solve.

"Both of you!" she orders, a little too harshly and startling both the seamstresses and the competitors in their shouting match. She clears her throat and resumes all regal and graceful composure. "Kristoff, if Sven is to stay in our palace stables, then it is in everyone's best interest that he remain hygienic, so the bath is acceptable." Kristoff's jaw drops while Anna crosses her arms over her chest and smirks.

"And Anna…" The red-head turns and looks at her sister doe-eyed, her grin fading. "Next time…" Elsa pauses before rolling her shoulders. This is ridiculous. "Don't make the reindeer smell so _feminine_."

Anna glares at Kristoff who glares back, both of their frowns curling up into identical, mischievous grins. "Deal?" the blond asks coyly.

"Deal." Anna agrees, grabbing his hand as they shake on it. Elsa smirks to herself at the sight. If they weren't in a relationship they certainly were into something.

Though they shake on the matter, Kristoff isn't satisfied. Two seconds before Anna recognizes the look of revenge flash across his face, Kristoff bends over and wraps his arms around Anna's petite waist. She squeals as the muscle man lifts her up and throws her onto his shoulder, using one hand wrapped around her thighs to hold onto her. Elsa's eyebrows rise, but she nimbly waves them off, much to her sister's horror, and Kristoff carries her out the room.

"Kristoff! Put me down!" she screeches as they make their way down the hall's of the castle. He chuckles as her tiny fists pound into his back, making his laugh vibrate in his chest. Her attempts are futile for she is so far over his shoulder that she has no leverage to hoist herself back up, but not so far over that she can slip from his grasp. He has absolute control over the woman in his arms. He blushes. He hadn't meant for it to sound so _perverse_.

This is definitely not dignifying; being hauled through the corridors over the shoulder of some man. And much to her own self scolding and dismay, Anna can't stop her lips from lifting into a smile or the round of giggles that seem to build with each step he takes. She can't see where they're heading, and she gives up her attempt of escape; instead resting her elbows against his back and using her hands to support her head, watching his brisk strides march in a comforting rhythm.

They do stuff like this all the time anyways, she should be used to it by now. Just last week when Elsa accidentally created a snowfall in the castle ballroom, Anna and Kristoff had started a snowball fight together that ended with Kristoff dumping the red-head in a pile of snow. Mind you, when he lent a hand to help her up, she pulled him down into the snow as well. That had been exhilarating; his hair full of snow and laughing that deep outdoorsman laugh that shook her body to the core.

"Payback time." His deep voice brings Anna back to the reality and she blushes heavily when she realizes that she had been staring at his back side in admiration. She sees the back end of a set of double doors that are shutting behind them. A cool, early morning breeze ruffles the skirts of her dress and she squirms against the unnatural feeling, her white tights providing little protection. They're in the castle courtyard, the only outdoors she ever had as a child. She listens to the birds chirp around her and waits to see what Kristoff has in store as punishment.

The blond man grins as their destination comes into view and he hefts the girl on his shoulder up so that she's in his arms bridal style. She giggles as her arms loop around his neck and start tousling his hair playfully. "So what is the punishment this time?" She asks, far too seductively from Kristoff's perspective for the simple sentence, running her fingers through his hair and looking up into his big brown eyes.

His pace slows as color rushes to his cheeks, swallowing hard and looking away. So long as he doesn't look directly into her eyes then he can think straight. She wouldn't be able to toy with him, because damn her eyes just had to be so blue and so beautiful. "Another snow bank?" she teases, and he can't help but look down with a grin.

"Not quite." Anna watches him quizzically for a moment before looking over her shoulder and noticing the duck pond not twenty paces away. She gasps.

"NO! No, no! Please!" she shrieks, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. He drops her to her feet, but wraps his arms around her waist and holds her off the ground as he carries her to the pond.

"You wanna make my reindeer smell like flowers, I'll make you smell like pond water," he chuckles, squeezing her sides. She shouts and grabs for something to hold onto, but there's nothing. She thrashes about in his arms while he chortles. "Okay Anna, on three. One…"

"Don't you dare!" she whimpers, trying to sound commanding but only sounding helpless. She tries to kick him in the knee, failing pitifully.

"Two…" He gently swings her to the side, getting set to toss her in.

"Kristoff please don't!"

"Thr-"

"I'll do anything you want!" she cries. He hesitates as similar thoughts run through their heads. _Wait...what?_

"Anything?" he asks her, setting her feet on the ground and turning her to look at him. He knows when she lies to him; she has this tell where she can't look a person in the eyes.

Anna nods and smiles up at him, glad to be back on her feet. "Anything."

He nods, looking away in contemplation and she lets out a sigh of relief. She glances up and her eyes widen when she realizes his face is much closer than before. His hands press against her hips and she reddens at the contact. His eyes stare solely at her lips as he begins to lean in, her heart beating faster. Her eyes flutter shut and her head tilts upward, expecting what's to come next…

"THREE!"

She gasps as she's lifted into the air and thrown. The bastard had so stupidly, and cleverly, distracted her. Damn him and his stupid crooked smile, and perfectly perfect lips! Luckily for her, at the last possible second, she's able to latch onto his arm like a leach and because she's too far out, she pulls him with her.

They hit the water at the same time, Kristoff doing a belly flop as Anna lands rump first. They brake the surface moments later, sputtering and coughing on the foul tasting water. They glance up at one another and hesitate for a moment in complete silence before bursting into abdomen aching laughter.

Kristoff has weeds hanging from his shoulders and hair, making him look like a true member of his adoptive troll family. Anna has a lily pad sitting perfectly on the top of her head in mock crown formation.

To on lookers, they look ridiculous. To Kristoff, Anna is as radiant as the summer sunshine. To Anna, Kristoff is as handsome as a thousands stars put together. Both faces turn scarlet, not entirely from laughing either.

Kristoff stands up first and offers a hand to help Anna to her feet in the knee deep water. She smiles brightly up at him and takes it without hesitation. They wade out of the water and up to the edge of the pond, hands still linked together. She would have fallen down when she slips in the mud if Kristoff's other arm hadn't looped around her and steadied her, pulling her close.

"Whoa. Easy there, feisty pants," he says chuckling. She giggles at the nickname he'd given her that day they had first encountered Marshmallow, the ice bodyguard that had thrown them out of Elsa's ice castle. She looks up quickly and unexpectedly, their noses brushing together. Their smiles drop faster than snow in December.

He pulls back instantly, just enough to look at her and gauge her reaction. They hadn't been this close on accident since he had thrown her in the snow bank a while ago, and when she pulled him down with her. He had placed himself to land beside her so as not to hurt her, but she had jumped on him and pinned him in the snow. The way she had looked in that moment, cheeks red, breathing heavily, and grinning like crazy, it just took his breath away.

And now here they are, again; cheeks red, breathing labored. He searches her face for anything. Signs that he needs to let her go, that she's uninterested, that she doesn't like him the way he loves her; because fuck, he really loves this outstanding, charismatic, over-the-top princess who's just bursting with attitude and if she ever wants to leave him then he'll just give up and die.

But, crazy as he thinks it is, her lips turn into a smile and her eyes squint as she smiles softly. His heart throbs and his lips move on their own accord into what he thinks is some ridiculous looking grin. He wants to tell her that he loves her. That he'd be there, for her, for forever.

Her gaze flickers from his eyes to a little lower, than back into his eyes, and he feels his heart skip a beat. She's close, oh so close, and he wants nothing more than to just kiss her. Without even realizing, he leans a little as his hand holding her to him snakes up her back and cups her face. She shivers against his touch and tilts her head a little toward him, her eyes drifting close as do his, relying on instinct to guide them like last time. They're lips barely graze-

"Anna!" Had they been standing inside, their heads would have hit the ceiling they jumped so high as her name echoes in the courtyard. They pull apart, just in time for a walking, talking, and yes, living snowman to round the corner on his little stubby feet. "Princess An- oh! There you are, I've been looking for you!" Olaf squeals as he races over to the sopping wet duo, branches spread wide as he encompasses the red-head in a large hug. Kristoff sputters as Olaf's snow cloud swirls around his head, making him shiver.

"Hi Olaf!" Anna smiles down at the snowman before glancing up at Kristoff who's still trying to push aside the snow flurry. Olaf snorts when he notices Kristoff's struggle. "Oh! Heh! Sorry Kristoff," he apologizes while backing away from the two. A light dusting of snow and ice has settled on their clothes and the two shiver.

Kristoff huffs, annoyed at the oblivious snowman who had clearly ruined the moment. "What do you want?" he asks grumpily, receiving a small nudge from Anna. He glances down at their hands still interlocked together and he smiles lightly, squeezing it gently. Anna suppresses a sigh as her heartbeat quickens.

Olaf squeals and jumps around excitedly. "Elsa sent me to fetch you! She says she has something for you that's really important. It's a surprise!" Anna giggles at the little bundle of snow's excitement.

"Okay, but first I need to change out of these wet clothes," she tells him. Olaf stops his jumping and looks them up and down, finally noticing the water still dripping underneath the icicles on their clothes.

His face turns to concern for the duo as he asks, "Oh dear. What happened to you two? Were you trying to swim? Did you sink?" Kristoff rolls his eyes while Anna covers her giggles with her free hand. Olaf nimbly stares between the two, curiosity parallel to a child's.

"Let's just go find Elsa," Anna says and Olaf resumes to jump around again, squealing with excitement. The princess then turns toward the blond man still holding her hand. Anna smiles brightly, deep blue eyes glinting with happiness and humor, and Kristoff nearly forgets how to breathe. "So…" she begins and Kristoff gives her hand an understanding squeeze.

"I'll see you later," he tells her, leaning in to gently touch his forehead to hers. She bites her lip and blushes. Olaf offers one of his branches, which Anna takes in her free hand and he pulls her with surprising force. The warmth of Kristoff's hand slips away, leaving her hand colder than possibly Elsa's. Was that even possible? She found herself missing his warmth already.

Anna glances back over her shoulder at the ice harvester watching them with a dumb smile on his face and she giggles to herself. He may not be noble, or rich, or clean for that matter, but Anna could care less. She wouldn't even have cared if Kristoff had two buck teeth, pimples, and smelled like cabbage, because she's in love with his heart.

The only reason she hasn't told Kristoff she loves him is because the pain of Hans' betrayal is still too fresh to bear, but he makes it so much easier. And as he waves to her, the look on his face that of complete and utter bliss, she can't help but believe he'd wait for her; because she's about ready to admit to him and herself that she's undeniably, unconditionally, impossibly, happily in love with this loud, sarcastic, reindeer loving man.

She waves back. If love could only ever be that simple.

* * *

"How does it look?" Elsa asks turning on the pedestal, her finished dress flowing around her in a grand sweep. The dress is a deep sea blue and it shimmers with each turn she takes; the embedded snowflakes catching the light in a soft, yet dazzling way, making her practically glow. She's decided upon sleeves but her neck and chest remain exposed. A clear, almost reflective cape seemingly made of silk and ice put together, barely scrapes the ground, exposing the crystal heels she's wearing.

Gerda and Boulda both gush over her dress, adoring her beauty. "Oh, honey!" Boulda cries gleefully, clapping her rock-like hands together in delight. "You look gorgeous!" Gerda nods in agreement, her compliments less enthusiastic than the overbearing troll next to her.

Elsa turns back to the full length mirror and tilts her head to the side. _Perhaps._ Her eye brows furrow as she continues to stare at her reflection. But maybe she's overdone it with the crystal necklace that spreads across her chest elegantly. Not to mention the ice crown that will rest atop her head come the ball later on. She sighs and mindlessly picks at the fabric as she thinks. There are a lot of people she has to impress tonight and she will not have it all be for nothing if her dress is un-presentable

"No man will be able to keep their eyes off of you once you step into the room! Ha! You'll have them begging at your feet by the end of the night." Elsa rolls her eyes at the troll woman but smirks inwardly.

The trolls had taken it upon themselves to make the journey from the Valley of Living Rock to her kingdom. "All for the sake of our son, of course," Pabbie told her as a group of little troll children tackled Kristoff, Sven, and poor Anna to the ground. Elsa merely nodded and welcomed the newcomers warmly; later pulling Kai aside and telling him to store away anything breakable and of value.

At first, they had been overwhelming. Between the magic, the constant noise and the tendency to trip over them, the first weeks had been excruciatingly painful. But Elsa would admit that after Pabbie sent a large sum of the children and his tribe back home, they were actually quite enjoyable. The only ones who remained were Pabbie, Boulda, and two or three youngsters.

"Whoa." Everyone in the room turns to the doors where the new voice presents itself. Anna, with Olaf in hand, stands in the entryway staring up at her sister. "Wow," she remarks, letting go of Olaf's branch as she steps fully into the room and makes her way toward her sister. "Seriously Elsa! This is beautiful!"

"That's what I've been saying!" Boulda exclaims placing her hands on her hips. "But nobody wants to listen to fashion advice from a _troll_." Gerda rolls her eyes and smiles, gesturing to Boulda that they should give the sisters some privacy. The dramatic woman hesitates, but nods anyways, letting Gerda lead the way out of the room. Gerda ushers Boulda and Olaf out into the hallway before closing the doors.

Anna turns to her older sister and smiles brightly. "So! Olaf says you have something for me?" she asks, scuffing her shoes against the ground, hoping her innocence will excuse her rudeness.

Elsa smiles warmly at her sister before walking over to a table in the opposite corner of the room, Anna following curiously. "It took the servants some time to rummage through the debris, and I'm still surprised they could even find it," Elsa tells her sister, opening a drawer in the table and pulling something out, concealing it from Anna. Elsa turns with the mysterious item she's holding behind her back and she faces her sister, a grin plastered on her face.

"What did they find?" Anna asks, shifting her weight side to side as her excitement bubbles in her chest. Thousands of ideas as to what her sister is holding behind her back race through her mind and the more she thinks about it, the more impatient she becomes.

"By the time they did, a new one had already been made. They wanted to throw it, but it has too much sentimental value."

"Let me see, Elsa!" the princess whines, trying to peer over her sister's shoulder while her arms reach out like a needy child. Elsa holds her sister back with her free hand and laughs quietly to herself. She had missed this about her sister, all that time ago.

"Calm down, Anna." Elsa sighs heavily and continues. "Since I have no use for it now, I figured you…" she pauses as she brings the shiny object from behind her back, presenting it, "…could wear it?"

Anna gasps as she recognizes the crown Elsa holds in her hands. It's the same crown their mother had worn when she was queen, and it's the same crown that Elsa had worn on her coronation day. "Oh, Elsa…" she whispers, gently taking the crown from her sister's hands with shaky fingers. For a moment, she just stares at the blue zircon gem and her reflection in the gold. She glances up at her sister and the two embrace in a tight hug, the chill in the air seemingly non-existent from the sisterly love. "Thank-you," Anna whispers, pressing her head into her sister's platinum blonde hair.

Elsa stifles a sob and fights to keep her tears under control. She cannot have Gerda redo her make-up all over again, just because a few tears of joy she let slip. With a deep calming breath she pulls away and holds Anna at arms length, smiling widely. "Well let's see it on!"

It takes Anna a few tries to situate the crown into her hair and even then, it's crooked. The Queen adjusts the crown so that it sits on her sister's head perfectly, turning Anna to stand in front of her mirror. Both girls watch the mirror in awe, one very excited and the other so very proud.

"The crown suits you well, your highness." The sisters turn toward the new voice in the room and recognize their head butler Kai, standing in the doorway. He bows low for a moment, acknowledging both royals before standing up straight once more.

Anna giggles and gives a small, "Thanks-you Kai," to which the older man nods respectfully.

"I don't mean to interrupt your majesty," he says, addressing Elsa directly. "But the Royal Council have arrived and are quite anxiously begging your presence down in the throne room. Will you have them?"

Elsa sighs heavily and gives her sister's shoulder a comforting squeeze before answering, "Yes. Tell them I will be down momentarily." Kai nods his head and bows, exiting the room.

The Royal Council? What could they possibly want that is so urgent? And right before the ball tonight? Elsa's nerves are starting to get the best of her and the temperature in the room drops a few degrees. Goosebumps rise on Anna's bare arms and she resists the urge to shiver as Elsa starts to pace the length of her bedroom suddenly becoming unnaturally anxious. Her fingers mindlessly interlock and twist around as she bites her lip, Elsa's obvious stress tell, and suddenly Anna feels very compelled to calm her sister.

"Hey." Elsa stops pacing and looks at her sister as Anna smiles warmly. "It's probably something meaningless. And Boulda's right, everyone is going to love you!" And just like that the chill in the air fades away and temperatures begin to rise again, just like Elsa's spirit. Her dark red lips turning into a smile as she wraps her sister in a tight hug.

Oh, how Elsa loved her sister. Sure, Anna was a little _unorthodox_ when it came to other princesses, and sure, maybe she was a little too care free for her own good. And maybe she was a bit naïve, and well, quite frankly, the girl was just a tad bit crazy! But if Elsa had to choose between the most well behaved, well rounded, most proper and lady like princess and her sister? Well, she'd choose her sister, hands down with no questions asked. She was happiness, and love, and kindness, all wrapped up in a tight, tiny, energetic, lovely little bottle.

She's her best friend. They can do anything together.

* * *

It's as if someone were taking a hammer and repeatedly beating him over the head with it. He feels downright awful. And the pain? Un-Godly! It's making him feel ill, especially the fire spreading through his body from his right shoulder. Slowly, and with much difficultly, Niall opens his eyes to darkness.

His first assumption, based off of the last thing he can remember, is that he's dead. But as his eyes begin to adjust to the lowly lit room, he realizes that it isn't a room at all, but the cabin of a ship. As more of his senses begin to awaken, he can feel the slight rock of the ship as it splashes through the ocean he can hear crashing against the haul. The smell of polished oak mixes with the faint scent of body odor, food, and something distinctly metal.

The stiffness in his body must mean that he's been unconscious for sometime now, maybe two days at most, and the hollowness of his stomach confirms it. He needs to move, but it's too painful and troubling all in one. Instead he bothers his head, that's still trying to quell the large headache he's had since he became conscious, and thinks things over.

Somebody, this ship, rescued him from death. He most definitely would have been a goner had they not saved him. Well he wouldn't have been in the water in the first place if he hadn't been hunted down by his own people and shot at. The mere thought makes his shoulder ache even more and he shuts his eyes tightly as hot tears blur his vision, not entirely from the pain. His "father" is dead and his "brother" thinks he's at the bottom of the sea.

His eyes drift open slowly as the realization dawns upon him. Sullivan will take the throne as he tells everyone that the traitorous man known as Niall was executed in Liverpool England. He, technically as of this moment, doesn't exist.

But a knot of fear begins to form in the core of his stomach that's already too hollow. Once these people realize who he is, they'll just hand him back over to his brother before he has time to explain. His head will be placed between the ground and the blade, then he'll be publicly executed for real. The thoughts make his throbbing head spin and he moans. Why did Eochaid have to name him as successor?

Sudden rage boils within Niall as he angrily lets a tear slip down his cheek to rest near his ear. The fucking bastard, not even his own father, names him instead of his real son. Was he insane? Was he stupid? What did he see in Niall that Sullivan didn't have?

Sure… Sullivan might have been more secluded than everyone else, and okay, he did have a tendency to be inappropriately sarcastic at times. So, he wasn't as strong as Niall was, so he didn't look like the face of a leader, and so he may not have been as educated or experienced in politics as Niall had been, but still… It was all just because the King had taken more interest in Niall than Sullivan, so it-

Niall's eyes widen as an unexplainable force suddenly hits him so suddenly and so forcibly, he sits up with a jolt. He pants and clutches his head as thoughts tumble around in his mind, all blurring together until they're nothing but a cluster fuck in the boundaries of his mind.

The King had taken interest in a bastard boy rather than his own son? Niall pants and sweats as waves of confusion hit him like a deadly storm. Why? What was so special about him? Why choose him over his own kin? Something cold rests against his chest and Niall glances down at the chain hanging around his neck with Tara's royal crest hanging from it. He takes it up with shaky fingers and as he stares down at the black, red, and yellow gold piece, everything clicks.

It was the day, some twenty-two years ago, when Eochaid had taken Niall on his very first trip to a neighboring kingdom. Niall was merely a toddler, nearly four years of age. Upon arriving in the neighbor kingdom, Eochaid had directed they were to attend a conference with the other kings of the land and Niall was not to speak at all. He had made sure to grab Niall's shoulders and bring the boy in very close. "You will not speak, under any circumstances, at the conference." Niall understood perfectly. He didn't want to let his father down.

The meeting began and for the majority of it ran smoothly, until one of the western kings began to make wild accusations against his father. "Thief! You traitorous bastard! You hold yourself on such a high pedestal and walk all over us as if you're a god!" Eochaid quickly built his defenses, saying the king was clearly overreacting and that he did not hold himself above others, but the accusations continued.

Niall, who had been eavesdropping from the hallway and who had thoroughly been instructed not to utter a word, became quite furious. How could this king say such things about his father? Niall tried, he truly did try to stay quiet as this man ridiculed his father, but it was too much.

Rushing forward and sending the doors open with a large _bang_, Niall raced in the room, much to the horror of his father and surprise from several other kings in the room. "How dare you accuse my father of such things!" He shouted, pointing a stubby little finger at the man robbing his father of his dignity. "My father is a great king, a good man, and certainly much better than you! While you ramble on with your stupid lies, my father provides the truth. He's generous, caring, and the greatest leader I have ever known. You, sir, have no right to accuse my father of any misgivings!"

The room grew silent, deadly silent, and if Niall had been thinking clearly he would have colored, apologized profusely, and ran from the room of high ranking officials before his father had time to literally throw him out. But Niall stood firm, glaring the western king down; his arms crossed, chest puffed up, and his chin as far out as he could make it.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, the room burst into unceremonious laughter from the other kings, startling little Niall and snapping him back to reality. He hastily glanced over at his father who was frowning, but his eyes were glinting with unsaid pride. The King of Dublin leaned over and told my father, "Quite the tongue your boy has, eh Eochaid?" And for the first time in a while, Eochaid actually smiled.

"That he does."

The western king who had been on the receiving end of Niall's banter suddenly lurched forward in his seat, swinging his arm with full force as it ran across Niall's face with an audible _slap_! Niall staggered and fell backwards, his father jumping from his seat. "Ungrateful child!" the western king screamed as Niall's father grabbed the man and shoved him halfway across the room. The rest of the kings and the guards in the room quickly jumped to restrain the two.

Niall sat on the ground, his face stinging as tears began to well in his eyes. He rubbed his nose quickly and stifled a sniffle. He couldn't let his father see how childish he was being. He quickly wiped away the tears on his jacket, making sure not to wrinkle the fine material.

"That's my son you bastard!" The room was in chaos; everyone was screaming at someone else, and if something didn't happen soon a civil war was a very great possibility. Through all the shouting, came a soft yet firm voice as he stood between his father and the western king.

"It's alright father." Everyone glanced down as Niall held firm, looking more reserved than anyone else in the room. He took a deep breath and let it out, innocence making his next words seem much more fitting for a man than a child. "He was angry and we sometimes do things when we're angry. I can take it."

The room grew quiet once again, as Niall slowly faced the western king before him. "I'm sorry for how I spoke to you, your majesty. Do you forgive me?"

The man stirred, contemplating something as he searched the boy over. Finally, he gave a half smile and looked to Eochaid. "You have quite an amazing boy there Eochaid."

Eochaid rested a hand on his son's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "Yes. Yes I do." Niall looked up at his father who smiled down at him and ruffled his blond hair. "I really do." Eochaid smiles and reaches around his neck, slipping the royal crest necklace off and sliding it over Niall's head. Perhaps it was the joy of being appreciated or the child's lack of attention, but for some reason the next sentence the king spoke didn't strike him as it was striking Niall at this very moment… "He'll make a great king one day, I'll see to that."

Now Niall sits staring at the necklace in hand, everything that had confused him before suddenly snapping into sudden clarity. His father had planned everything. Ever since that day, that fateful day he had done something so incredibly stupid and shown so much courage and determination, his father had trained him. He had set him up, him and Sithchenn. They made him into a king.

"Oh good! You're awake." Niall jumps as a person opens a door, letting blinding sunlight in the dark cabin. Niall shields his face, the light sending jarring pain from his eyes to his head. The door closes and Niall slowly adjusts back to the low light provided by a single lantern in the corner.

The man who walked in is shorter than Niall but much more muscular. His arms practically don't fit into the vest he's wearing and Niall can't help but gulp a little. He would never win in a fight against this man, not that it needed to come to a fight. A sudden aroma wafts across the room and Niall's stomach roars when he notices the large bowl of stew the man's holding. The man laughs, his bushy brown mustache bobbing up and down to the rhythm.

"Figured you would need this," he says, walking over to Niall and handing him the tin bowl with a wooden spoon. "Not eating for a few days can certainly get to you."

"How long have I been out?" Niall asks quietly in between mouthfuls as he inhales the stew. Its nothing more than broth and a few vegetables, but it tastes like Heaven.

The man removes his cap and smoothes back greasy brown hair before replacing it. "Well, we fished you out a few days ago, but that shoulder wound you got there," he says, pointing to the bandages around Niall's right shoulder and Niall suddenly realizes he's completely naked, "has kept you out of things. How does it feel?"

Niall shrugs, the movement tight and uncomfortable as he pulls the blankets around him into his lap a bit more. "A little stiff, but not too bad." The man nods and runs a hand over his mouth, scratching at his mustache.

"Uh huh… so stranger," he says, grinning as he looks Niall over, "how'd you end up with that anyways? And why would you go swimming in the sea in a storm like that?" he asks humorously.

Niall freezes, slowly spooning more stew into his spoon to make it look like he's more focused on the action than the thousands of thoughts screaming inside his head. If he tells this man who he really is and how he got here, what is to become of him? Sithchenn's words sing in Niall's ears as he slowly sips on the stew.

_ "You were named successor, not because of your blood relation to the king or your age, but because you are a good man. You are a great man. Myself, Tara, and all of Ireland is counting on you to challenge Sullivan and take your rightful place as successor to Eochaid." _

He knows he's right. Sullivan isn't fit to be the King of Tara. And if he stays, Tara might only have a few months before everything crumples to the ground and Tara ends up in ruins. There's too much at stake, too many people counting on him. Sithchenn, his father, people of Tara, Ireland, they would all need him in the near future. He would just have to stay hidden.

Niall swallows the stew in his mouth and sets the empty bowl aside with an exaggerated huff. "That was way too rich for me," he says, rubbing his stomach for emphasis. "Phew! I haven't had a meal like that in ages!" He chuckles, glancing at the man sitting next to him. He clears his throat, taking a deep breath as he dives into the biggest lie he has ever told. "Well, for your information, I was not swimming, not intentionally that is." He gulps and continues.

"I'm a fisherman, you see. I had been told that haddock were breeding in the waters of the shores of Liverpool, and I thought I'd try my luck that day." He wafted his arm into the air and pointed at the ceiling. "Storm just comes out of no where and I'm getting tossed about like a piece of drift wood. Trying to pull up my nets, the hook on one of the nets caught my arm, that's how I got this here," he explains, pointing to the bandages. "After that, the next thing I know is this giant wave coming in and capsizing my boat. I was sure I was a goner then," he finishes, looking as sullen and depressed as he can pull off.

The man remains silent for a few seconds before smiling and patting Niall's shin. "And you probably would have been had my private not seen you," he explains, seemingly buying Niall's story. It then becomes clear to Niall that the man he's speaking to is the captain of the ship.

"You're the captain of this ship?"

The captain nods, tilting his cap to Niall. "Yup. Captain Tully at your service lad. We are a trades ship, you see. We were trading with the coastal kingdoms of France and were returning home early when the storm hit us. We thought we were goners as well until we hit the eye, and low and behold, we find you, just drifting in the water and 'bout ready to die it looked like. So we pulled you aboard."

Niall sighs heavily. "Thank-you."

Tully nods politely. "No problem, son. We all have those kinds of days," and they share a chuckle, because everyone just happens to almost die on a regular basis. "So…you gotta name lad?"

Niall hesitates. If he tells Captain Tully his real name, he may make the connection or someone might. He thinks quickly, searching for a name he could use. He's taking too long so he spits one out. "Rion…" he hesitates, "Rion Sithchenn."

With baited breath he keeps Tully's stare, until the man pats his shin again and looks away. "Well, Rion, you from the British Isles?" Niall gulps.

"I spend the majority of my time there, yes." Tully smiles, and shakes his head.

"Well, my boy, you are a _long_ ways from home then," he says, chuckling. Niall clears his throat.

"Actually I don't have a home. Not anymore."

Tully frowns. "No family?" Niall shakes his head. "No home?" He shakes it again, pieces of black hair falling into his face. He almost forgot that he had done that, still assuming that his hair was blond and not inky black. Tully harrumphs, clearly dissatisfied with something. "Nothing to your name then, huh." Its more of a statement, and Niall plays it off with a sullen look to his lap. Tully ponders for a moment, before looking up at Niall and smiling.

"Well now, in our kingdom, we take in all kinds of people. Old, rich, young, poor, even people like you Rion. So I'll tell you what Rion," he says gently laying a hand on the Niall's injured shoulder. "I'll get you a job working in the castle. They pay, board, and feed you, so you'll have that covered. All you need is basic manner skills and you'll have a place to sleep by the end of the night. That sound fair?"

Niall grins as his plan comes to a close. "I think I can manage that." Tully grins and gently pats Niall's shoulder. A thought hits him as Niall realizes that he has no idea where this kingdom is. "Say, where exactly is your kingdom?"

Captain Tully opens his mouth to answer, but a shout from outside the door catches their attention. "LAND HO!" Tully smiles.

"Why don't you come see for yourself," he says, rising and offering a hand to help Niall. Stiffly, painfully, but eventually, Niall hauls himself to his feet, slightly embarrassed at his bareness, but Tully isn't even phased. _They're commoners idiot. This shit doesn't phase them._ He curbs his blush as he scolds himself on being so bashful. Tully helps him pull on a loose shirt, explaining that Niall's cloths was too bloody to salvage, and Niall luckily manages trousers on his own.

The blinding light catches Niall off guard as he shuffles out the door after Tully and it shuts behind him. After a few seconds and when the sun doesn't hurt his eyes so much, Niall removes his arm from his eyes and gasps.

They are on the edge of a kingdom that practically sits on water. The fjord is packed with boats, some being small regular fishing boats and others being large, delicately crafted royal vessels. The village itself is in the middle of a steep valley, large mountains bordering it on every side. From far away you can hear the festivities of the people, whatever the occasion being has brought these people together in celebration. Everything looks green and lush, and it reminds Niall of his own kingdom.

But, by far, the most beautiful thing in the kingdom is the castle. It sits aside from the village, like the center of a painting, and towers over it like a giant to an ant. It's much larger than Niall's castle and far more beautiful, he thinks as the sun glints off of the watchtowers made of… glass? They have glass towers! It looks almost like ice!

"It's amazing!" he gapes in awe, Tully clapping his good shoulder and chuckling.

"Well kid… This is it!" He pauses and smiles, sweeping his hand out in front of them like he's pulling the curtains on a bright new world.

"Welcome to Arendelle."

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**Welp! That's it for the double updates. This is going to be a weekly kind of deal (*cough cough, hopefully, cough cough*) and I hope you guys are liking it, meaning you should send some reviews. P.S. Rion is an Irish name for "Snow" or so I've been told by Wiki... if I'm wrong soo sorry. I just thought that it were fitting that Niall take the name "Snow" because of you know, SNOW Queen? Anyways. Thanks For Reading!**

**Next time in **_**Frozen In Time:**_** Niall, now Rion, starts his work at the castle where he meets, Anna, Kristoff, and… Sven? And who is this Snow Queen? Meanwhile, Elsa receives some troubling news from the Royal Council… dun, dun…DUN!**


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